“Hey Marcy,” I say politely as I unload well over fifteen items onto the belt. If anyone asks why I’m in the fast checkout lane, I’m blaming Aggi for springing her latest idea on me and shaking me to my core.
“How’s it going, Todd?” Marcy responds, carefully scanning each item. I’ve never quite understood why they have her in the fast lane. She’s the slowest cashier ever. Maybe management thinks the fewer items for her to scan the better.
“It’s going. Aggi’s headed out of town, so I’m going over to the cabin to let her friend in.”
Marcy nods and continues her work, chewing on her bottom lip. We do this song and dance often, so I give her time to pull together her nerves. It takes a few more silent minutes, but finally she blurts it out.
“I designed some new shirts.”
I respond appropriately, eyes wide with false excitement. It makes Marcy feel good, and after everything she’s been through, a little support won’t hurt. “Yeah? You didn’t happen to bring one in my size, did you?”
She nods. “Your total is twenty-seven dollars and fourteen cents.” She doesn’t bother to bag my items as she reaches under the counter. “The shirt is an additional twenty-five. But it’s good quality cotton and handmade by me.”
Peeling three tens from my wallet for the shirt, I hand them over. “I don’t doubt you at all. The handmade part is why I’m your best customer.”
I’m lying through my teeth, but she’s beaming, so I don’t care. Marcy’s shirts are ugly as sin. There is no denying it. But I know the cash I’m handing over to her will likely feed her child for the next week or keep her lights from being shut off, so I don’t care. It’s not like fashion is that important to me. Helping out a former schoolmate who is going through a rough financial time is more important. That’s why I wear her ugly shirts proudly. Because Marcy is working hard to survive, and when anyone in town sees her creation on my back, it’s a reminder to them to not forget Marcy and her son. And we don’t.
She takes the money from me carefully, opening up the money bag behind the counter and situating the bills before handing me a five. All this goes down while I’m using the credit card machine to swipe for my groceries and bagging things myself. If it was any other cashier, I might be upset, but at least this way I know the wine bottle isn’t going on top of the bread. Marcy is super book smart but a professional grocery bagger, she is not.
Handing me a plastic grocery bag with my shirt in it, Marcy thanks me for my business. Not sure if she means my grocery business or my buying a shirt, but it’s no matter. I’ll be back for both again anyway.
I step outside the door and around the corner, stopping to pull open the bag. Call me a glutton for punishment, but I’m really curious what kind of atrocity I’ll be wearing now.
Pulling the clothing out of the bag, I groan.
Cats. It’s a shirt covered in cats. And they look just like my mother’s favorite feline.
Aggi is never going to let me live this one down. I have a bad feeling Ginger never is either.
Chapter 9
Donna
This is by far the most ridiculous thing I’ve done for a book. Okay, untrue. I did wear that latex bodysuit for an entire day once so my character could describe the experience correctly. And then I paid the price. If I were asked to share a piece of wisdom with the world, it would easily be to research the proper ways to wear latex. Specifically, removing said latex. Thinking of the process makes my skin crawl. Which is saying a lot since it felt like my skin was peeling off that day.
I digress.
The most impulsive thing I’ve ever done for a book is more accurate. Packing for a trip to a small town I’ve never heard of for inspiration is right up there on the ridiculous scale. I’ve never needed to step out of my normal process, in particular, my office or off my couch, in order to embrace a storyline. But, Aggi was very convincing, and I could go for a girl’s weekend regardless.
Since I’m more of a fun-in-the-sun kind of gal, I’ve had to spend a little time online shopping for warmer clothes. I didn’t realize how much room some of this stuff would take up in my suitcase. Tossed aside is my favorite mid-size suitcase and in its place is the large monstrosity I save for signings. This baby is usually stuffed full of swag, extra books, and the seventeen outfits I take with me for a three-day trip.
Today, instead of an assortment of pencil skirts, my suitcase holds snow pants, a pair of fuzzy waterproof boots, and half a dozen sweaters. Of course, I’ve tossed in my favorite pajamas and my fuzzy slippers for lounging. I assume since we’re staying in a cabin in the woods, there will be a fire. That idea has me giddy. I live in an apartment in the city where, if I’m lucky, our temperatures will drop down into the low sixties. An actual fire, one not of the brush variety that is, sounds amazing.
Can you roast a marshmallow in a fireplace? I don’t see why not. It’s fire, right?
Lovely, Donna. Your city is showing. I’m a mess.
I double check my packing list and hesitate for only a few seconds before I grab another pair of yoga pants and toss them in my suitcase. Satisfied with my options, I zip it up and slide the beast to the ground. As I place my bags near the door, my phone chimes with an alert that the car I ordered is downstairs. Quickly, I double check that I have my wallet and keys before slipping my carry-on bag onto my shoulder and exiting my apartment.
“Have a good trip, Ms. Moreno.” Charlie, the security guard, is more like a bellman with a gun. He’s known to hold doors open for all the residents and make small talk, even though none of it is part of his job description. We’re lucky to have him and the entire building makes sure to show our appreciation in the form of tips and presents over the holidays.
“Thank you, Charlie. Girl’s trip to the snow, if you can believe it.”
Eyes wide, he chuckles. “The snow isn’t something we see often; you enjoy yourself.”
Smiling, I wave my goodbye and exit the building to the waiting car at the curb. Some may see the black sedan as an unnecessary luxury. Truth be told, I have been travelling so much over the last few years that when I sat down with my accountant and looked at my expenses, I was paying for a car I never drove. Add in the car insurance and I’m saving a few hundred a month relying on a car service for trips to and from the airport or using a ride-share.
What I hadn’t expected was the cost for a car service when I land in Washington. Of course, the airport I have to fly into for this girl’s trip is just shy of one hundred miles from the cabin we’re staying in. One hundred miles. In another state. Idaho to be specific. Aggi offered to pick me up, but I didn’t want her to have to do all that driving in winter conditions, so I’ve already decided to bite the bullet and make sure to tip the driver well just for driving in the snow.
My ride to the airport isn’t long and I make it through security without an issue. Life as an author means I travel a lot and getting through the security lines has become almost second nature to me. Once I’ve slipped into my shoes and fastened my watch, I stop by the chain coffee shop and purchase my traditional splurge on a travel day—a frothy and sugary caramel macchiato with extra whipped cream.
Settling into a seat near my gate, I pull my earbuds from my bag before pulling up my audiobook. Sure it’s a little awkward now that I’ve actually met and talked to Hawk, er, I mean Todd, but as long as I don’t have to see him again, I can block the image of him out of my mind while Hawk says all the romantic and sexy words Adeline Snow writes.
“I don’t mean to be a pest, but how long do you think it will take us to get to the cabin?” I ask the driver before slipping into the backseat of the small SUV. The bitter cold rips through my body like an open wound. Why do people live where it’s this cold?
“About ninety minutes, I’d gather. Of course, as we get to the higher elevation the weather may turn a little, which may add a little time.”
The warm leather on my rear is a pleasant surprise. Heated seats. Not something I’ve had to worry
about in the warmer temps of the southwest. Cooling seats, yes. Heated, not so much. I must admit, it’s kind of like wrapping up in a heated blanket. I like it.
As we drive, I watch the city quickly fade from something you’d see all across the country to smaller communities just off the side of the interstate. A body of water is just off in the distance. It’s strange to me to be driving on a major interstate and there is just water off to the side.
Over the next hour or so, I relax into the seat and take in the view before me. The vast terrain changes from quiet and serene backdrops to small housing communities. The usual grocery chains and fast food restaurant billboards advertise along the highway, and I’ll admit they bring a little comfort to this city girl. I’m not going to be that far away from civilization should I need some bright lights. Checking my phone, I don’t see any messages from Aggi. She did tell me cell and Wi-Fi service may be spotty at the cabin, so I’m not surprised by her silence.
The last part of our drive is a far cry from the beginning. Long gone are the signs of cities and in its place, a scene comparable to a postcard. Miles and miles of open space lie before me with snowcapped mountains in the distance. The driver slows as we approach a short bridge. A large lake with little patches of ice floating are on either side of us as we approach a sweet small town. My heart rate picks up as I take in the surroundings.
Aggi was right. This is perfect.
The sun is only beginning to set, and as I look at my watch, I note that it sets rather early here. That’s funny to me because I remember having a conversation with Aggi once on a late summer night. I was already dressed for bed and settled on top of my fifteen hundred thread count sheets and she was telling me it was barely dusk at her house. How strange that in the winter, our days seem to catch one another but in the summer, her days are much longer. .
“We aren’t much further, miss.”
“Thank you. This town is lovely. It’s almost like a scene out of a movie.” I don’t add that it is like a scene out of one of my favorite holiday romances.
“We’re quite lucky in this part of the country. Our little piece of heaven is growing, which will get you varying opinions on whether or not that’s a good thing. I only hope with the growth, we don’t lose the small-town feeling like you’re seeing now.”
I couldn’t agree more.
At almost exactly ninety minutes from when I slid into the backseat of the car, we turn down a dark road. Only the moonlight guides us as the driver maneuvers the SUV up a road blanketed by nothing but trees.
“Wow, the cabin must be pretty deep in these woods.”
Laughing, he says, “Oh these aren’t woods. The home you’re headed to actually overlooks the lake. This is just your run-of-the-mill road.”
Well, I feel foolish. Scratch that. I felt a little embarrassed at my assumption we were in the woods. I feel foolish when I see the home in front of us. Cabin my ass. If this is a cabin, the Mona Lisa is a sketch. There are no logs stacked up to make a wall or a creaky looking wrap around porch. No, before me is something I would call a chalet or mini mansion, but never a cabin.
I don’t say anything else as the SUV comes to a stop just before the front door. Quickly, my door opens, and a hand is extended to help me exit the vehicle. Snagging my bag, I allow the man to help me out of the car. Now that I’ve gawked at the building in front of me, I notice the ground isn’t covered in ice or snow. Sure, the surrounding areas are blanketed in the fluffy white stuff but the ground, where I stand, is just wet.
“Do you think the ground is heated like the seats?” I try to joke with the driver and instantly regret it. Surely they don’t heat the ground here.
“Yep. A lot of the homes around the lake have heated driveways. The ice buildup makes it pretty slick.”
Huh. Heated seats and heated driveways. Who knew?
I take a tentative step toward the front steps, just in case the wet and not icy ground is not as it seems. When I determine it’s safe to walk, I make my way to the front steps as my bag is placed next to me.
“Thank you so much for your help and getting me here safely. You weren’t kidding when you said the weather may affect the roads.”
“You’re very welcome. Enjoy yourself.” He tips his hat at me and leaves me alone on the porch.
Quickly, the warmth from the heated seats has worn off and a shiver runs down my spine. Thank goodness for my new knee-high boots with fuzzy tops. My tootsies are staying toasty warm, even though the air feels icy on my exposed skin. Even my jeans can’t keep the intense cold off my legs.
Looking around, I don’t see a doorbell, so I reach for the handle and push on the door. Slowly, I peek my head inside and call Aggi’s name. Nothing.
“Hello?” I say a little louder as I pull my luggage into the foyer.
In the distance, I hear the telltale voice of one Justin Timberlake and shake my head at Aggi’s choice of music. I had no idea she was a JT fan. I fully support this new information and make my way into the cabin. No, chalet. I refuse to call this amazing place a cabin.
With an open concept, one wall of the room is a rock fireplace complete with a roaring fire inside and a large television hanging above it. Huge plush couches fill the space and I want to throw myself on them and turn on a cheesy romantic comedy while I devour a bowl of popcorn. Turning around, I see a large gourmet style kitchen with top-of-the-line appliances.
But, it isn’t the huge refrigerator or the inviting couches that take my breath away, it’s the large wall of windows. Stepping up, I take in the beauty before me. Miles and miles of snow-covered trees surround a massive body of water. I assume this is the lake the driver mentioned. If I didn’t know I’d freeze my ass off outside, I’d open one of these double doors and step out to take in the beauty. It’s so peaceful and serene, I’m not sure I’ll ever want to leave. If I can’t write a sweet romance here, where can I?
“Hey there.”
Screaming I jump around, landing in a karate stance as I take in the man before me. It takes a few seconds for my brain to acknowledge who is standing only steps away. The leprechauns on his shirt should have been my first clue. Todd.
“Holy shit, woman. You scared me.”
“I . . . scared . . . you?” I rasp out. “You can’t sneak up on someone like that. Holy crap, my heart is going to explode.” I bend over, trying to catch my breath following my sudden athletic moves and near-death experience, and slow my racing heartbeat.
“Whoa, whoa there. Stand up and put your hands on your head.” Lifting my head, I look at Todd but all I see are stars. This is not good. Before I can react, Todd grabs me by the arms and stands me up, placing my hands on my head. He’s standing very close to me, his dark eyes wide as he takes in a deep breath and exhales. I begin to mimic him and in only a few attempts, I feel my heart slowing and my breathing regulating.
“You okay?” he asks with a seriousness I haven’t seen from him before.
“I think so,” I reply, pulling my hands from atop my head. “Wow. Thanks for that. I’m pretty sure I was going down for the count.”
“Yeah, you didn’t look good. Your color is back now. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get you some water?”
Nodding, I take a seat on the couch, and it’s as comfortable and soft as I thought it would be. Todd comes back with a glass of water and full wine glass. Smiling, I accept the water and take a large drink before swapping it out for the wine. When in doubt, wine is the answer.
“Thanks.”
“No problemo.”
Setting the water on the table, I ask, “Where’s Aggi?”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
Making himself comfortable on the couch across from me, Todd sits back, his arm slung across the cushion. “She’s in L.A.” Choking on my wine, I wipe the dribbles from my chin and look back at him. “Spencer ate shit or something and has to have surgery. She went there, and I came here.”
“Oh no. Is
Spencer going to be okay?”
“Yeah, she sent me a text that they are holding off on surgery to further assess the damage. Really all it means is now he’s hot and injured, which makes him even more of an attraction to the ladies, so Aggi was right to go be with him. But, since she’s there with him she asked me to come here and open up the cabin for you.”
I snort at his use of the word “cabin” which he completely misinterprets as frustration with her absence. “Don’t be mad at her. I’m sure if your fiancé was injured, you’d do the same thing.”
“Oh, absolutely. I was snorting at you calling this place a cabin. This is like a small mansion or a chalet, it is not a cabin.”
“Eh, potato potahtoe.”
Smacking his hands together, I startle and almost spill my wine.
“Now that you’re here and all settled, I’m going to boogie. The sheets are all changed, the fridge is stocked with the long list of essentials Aggi sent me. You should be good on fire wood too. My number is on the fridge if you need anything. I’ll see ya.”
Wait, what? He’s leaving me here? Alone?
“Uh, you’re leaving?”
Standing, he furrows his brow at my question. I watch as his look changes from one of confusion to one of flirtation. Waggling his brows, he asks in his Hawk Weaver voice, “You want me stay?”
“Put that”—I begin waving my hand in his direction—“away. This is a girl’s weekend. No flirting allowed. So you can go. I’ll be fine.”
How hard can it be to keep a fire going and relax? I’m a strong independent woman who is going to write a sweet small-town romance and take the indie world by storm. Or at least write about a storm.
Todd laughs and picks up his keys from the counter before turning to me. “You’ll be fine. Like I said, gimme a call if you need anything. See ya.”
And before I can respond, he walks through the door and into the night.
Chapter 10
Todd
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